


A Ouija Board Bet

by Krislmart



Series: Destiel Promptober 2019 [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Curses, Destiel Promptober, Doppelganger, Haunted Houses, M/M, Ouija, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 06:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21050087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krislmart/pseuds/Krislmart
Summary: Destiel Promptober Day 15: Legend and A Very Victorian Hallow's EveDean has to take a Ouija board up to the old Novak mansion on Halloween. No big deal, right?





	A Ouija Board Bet

This was a dumb idea. If Dean has to rate his top five worst ideas of all time, accepting Jo’s Halloween bet would be up there. Maybe not number one but a close contender for second.

He shivered as he eyed the Victorian-era mansion. The Novak house had been empty ever since Dean could remember. His mom used to tell stories about how her best friend Claire’s family technically owned the place but didn’t live there. Jimmy, Claire’s dad, had found some legal loopholes that allowed it to be named a historical site. Several attempts had been made to restore the house and make it a showpiece for the town but they had been plagued by accidents. At least that’s what Mary said. No attempts had been made for about 15 years now.

“Truth or dare,” Jo laughed, sipping on the beer they had all stolen from Bobby’s. 

“That’s easy,” Dean laughed. “Dare.”

“No fair,” Sam yelled. “Dean always picks dare.”

Jo mischievously laughed. “Oh Sam, I know he does. That’s why I’ve been working out the perfect dare.” She glared at Dean. “And I haven’t forgotten who ratted me out to Ellen to save their own ass and is the reason we're all house bound on Halloween.”

Dean’s eyes widened. Jo was a force of nature on a good day. But when she was mad? He gulped, not liking his odds.

“I dare you to take this Ouija board up to the Novak house and try to talk to a spirit,” Jo said, whipping a box out from under her bed.

“What the hell Jo!” Dean yelped. “You know I don’t mess with that shit!”

Jo shrugged. “That’s fine. Be a chicken. You know what a forfeit means.”

Dean groaned. The other person’s chores for a year or everyone’s chores for three months. 

“Fine,” he spat. “I’m not staying up there all night though.”

“That’s fine,” Jo trilled. “You only have to stay in the house from 2 to 4 in the morning.”

Sam shot Jo a confused look. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Of course,” she laughed. “All the legends say that’s when the witching hours occur. Veils are thinner, creatures are more apt to appear, yadda, yadda yadda. Now let’s watch a movie until it’s time for Dean to journey up the hill.”

Dean shook his head.  _ No use dwelling on what got me here _ , he thought. Hefting the Ouija board more securely under his arm, he carefully climbed the steps to the mansion, avoiding the rotted portions of board. 

He had tucked his lockpicking kit into his backpack, sure that the old house would be secured. But as soon as his hand touched the door handle, it swung open almost soundlessly. 

“Weird,” Dean murmured, glancing around the dusty entrance hall. If he tried to set up here, Jo would only call him a chicken. His eyes trailed up the stairway. “Hell no,” he said. He was already breaking and entering; no need to call attention to it by having an ambulance pick him up after falling through dry-rotted stairs or second-story floors.

To his right, the house opened up into what a wide space. “Perfect,” Dean murmured. He situated himself on the floor with his back facing the windows. There was no way he was letting the staircase or any of the other doors be at his back.

Gently, he placed the Ouija board on the floor and dug the planchette out of his pocket. The smooth click of the planchette meeting the board reverberated through the house. Dean tried to ignore the shivers creeping across his neck. His fingers rested on the planchette, barely making contact.

“Hello,” he said, trying to conceal the shake in his voice. “Is anyone there?”

Nothing happened for several moments. Dean’s eyes darted around the room before he closed them and called out loudly, “Are there any spirits present?”

“THere’s no need to shout. It takes some time to cross the veil,” a rough voice said beside him.

Dean started, falling backwards. Ever so slowly, he forced his eyes to look to his right.

A man in an old-fashioned suit with a long, dark coat and a bowler hat on knelt beside him.

“I don’t understand why you’re so shocked. You were the one calling on spirits. Did you not expect a spirit to answer?” The figure tilted his head in confusion at Dean.

“Uh, I kinda hoped you wouldn’t,” Dean squeaked.

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” the man scoffed.

“I was dared to come in here and use this,” Dean gestured to the Ouija board. 

“Hmmm.” The man leaned in close to the board. “Is this part of your Halloween rituals?”   
Dean screwed his face up. “Uhm, I guess. People use them on Halloween for fun.”

The man chuckled. “We did mirror divinations.” His face clouded with anger. “They were supposed to be fun, but some people don’t like when your predictions ring too true.”

“Who are you?” Dean blurted out.

“My apologies,” the man smiled. “I’m Castiel Novak. I built this house.” He gestured around him. “I’m glad that it’s still standing but it’s rather a wreck now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled. “They’ve tried to fix it but something always happens.”

Castiel laughed darkly. “Well that would happen when a house is cursed, wouldn’t it?”

“Cursed?” Dean squeaked.

“Do you want to hear a ghost story from a real ghost?” Castiel smiled mischievously at Dean. “I’ll assume that’s a yes. Prophecy runs in my family’s blood in one way or another. I was gifted at mirror divination, more commonly known as scrying. I enjoyed scrying for close friends. Nothing serious, of course. Everything was going smoothly. My business in town was thriving, I had built this house on my family’s land, and I met a wonderful man.” Castiel gazed into empty space. 

“Michael was wonderful. Smart, funny, gifted -- he was the total package. Of course, we kept our relationship under wraps, but we were happy. Until someone had to run their mouth.”

Castiel began pacing across the floor angrily, the house creaking around him. “Alastair came to my house one day. He ran a competing business but wanted to discuss how we could benefit each other. He insinuated that he knew of my relationship with Michael. I denied it, though it hurt my very soul. Then, he asked me to scry his future for him. At first, I refused and pretended ignorance. I only used my gifts on people I knew I could trust and Alastair was far from that.”

Castiel stilled, glancing out the window. “He pushed again and again and when I refused every time, he stormed out. Said I would regret it. That night, a mob came to the door. I was visiting my cousin in town and didn’t realize anything was amiss until I read her future for the week and saw how she spent the majority of it crying. I dove deeper for the cause, fearing for the lives of her children, when I saw Michael’s dead body on the ground. I of course raced home but was too late. They claimed he had fought back and it was self-defense. As if he could have defeated a crowd of 15 by himself.”

Castiel turned to face Dean. “I stabbed Alastair through the heart and watched the life leave his eyes. As his followers began attacking them, I vowed that this town would know no rest until I was reunited with Michael Winchester. This town stole my love from me and I vowed my revenge.” 

Dean gasped, but Castiel continued with his story. “I wasn’t as powerful as liked to pretend I was. Instead of cursing the town, I only cursed this property. My soul is bound here and I know no peace.” 

As he said this, Dean had risen to his feet and crossed the room to where Castiel stood. The ghost turned and froze. “Your eyes,” he softly said, a cool breeze caressing Dean’s face. “I haven’t seen eyes that green in years.”

“Did Michael have any family?” Dean whispered, fighting the urge to pull back from the eerie touch.

“Yes, a younger brother named John. Why?” Castiel asked.

“Dad always did say his name was a family name,” Dean murmured. “My name is Dean Michael Winchester. My family has lived here for generations.”

Castiel gasped. “It’s not possible. You’re here but I’m still chained to this place.”

Dean hung his head. “I’m sorry man. I wish there was a way I could help.”

A bitter smile crossed Castiel’s face. “Let me scry for you. It’s the least I could do for the family of my Michael.”

Dean glanced around the room before he spotted a mirror on the wall. Grabbing it, he managed to wrestle it off the wall and onto the floor. The two sat on opposite sides of the mirror. Castiel gazed into its depths, an array of emotions flitting across his face. Finally, he looked back up at Dean. “I haven’t tried to use my powers since I became a ghost so maybe this is normal. I can’t really see your future. It’s cloudy. All I could make out with great change is coming.”

Dean softly laughed. “Well I am about to graduate high school. Everything will be changing.”

“Thank you Dean,” Castiel murmured, reaching out as if to caress Dean’s face. “Your presence here has lightened my heart somewhat. Seeing your light and energy...I could almost believe that my Winchester doesn’t blame me for what happened to him. That he’s found peace.”

“I’m sure he has,” Dean burst out. “It wasn’t your fault Castiel. It seems to me like that Alastair was crazy. You loved Michael and I know he had to have loved you.”

A warm glow filled the room. “What?” Castiel murmured. “What’s happening?”

Dean’s eyes widened and he kept speaking, letting himself ramble. “You’re not to blame. You would never have done anything to get him killed. He’s already forgiven you so why shouldn’t you forgive yourself?”

Castiel began fading from view, a small smile on his face. “Why shouldn’t I?” he whispered. Then, as he was barely visible, he began to beam and gazed beyond Dean. “Michael!”

“Dean! Dean!” Jo yelled as Sam frantically shook Dean back and forth. They had waited impatiently at the bottom of the hill but as the minutes ticked past four, there was still no sign of Dean. At 4:15, they had made the decision to go get Dean. Once they walked inside the house, they found Dean sitting cross-legged in the middle of what once was some type of sitting room, deep in a trance.

After shaking Dean several times, his eyes slowly came back into focus. “Huh?” he said. “What’s going on? Why did you guys come in? It’s only been maybe half an hour.”

“Dean,” Sam’s eyes were wide. “It’s been over two hours. We came to get you because we were worried.”

Dean scrambled to his feet. “You’re joking!” He reached in his pocket but of course they were right. “That was weird,” he said to himself.

“Dean?” Jo softly asked, twisting her fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah Jo,” Dean smiled at her. “I’m okay. That was just a crazy dream or something.”

_ It had to be a dream _ , he thought.  _ Because if that was real...stop it Dean, _ he chided himself.  _ Just go home and take a quick nap before school. _

Dean barely stifled a yawn before taking a gulp of his coffee. Jo had been so freaked by what had happened at the Novak house that she bought Dean a huge coffee on their way to school. She even offered to buy him another coffee on their lunch break to help him get through the day.

He stretched, wondering if he could potentially skip out on his class or two. Before he could make his mind up, Ms. Mills called the class to attention.

“Hey guys, we have a new student starting today. His mom grew up here and decided…” But the rest of her speech was lost to Dean. All of his attention focused on the door where the spitting image of Castiel, minus a few years, stood. 

Dean’s eyes tracked the guy as he walked over to Ms. Mills. He raised a hand in greeting. “I’m Castiel Novak, but I go by Cas. Mom wanted to move back to her hometown so here I am.”

Dean felt like his heart was going to thump out of his chest. The looks, the name, it was all too much. Then, Cas locked eyes with Dean and lightning raced up his spine. Turns out he wouldn’t need that second coffee to stay awake after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! I went a little over the 2000 word max but I completely got wrapped up in Castiel telling his story.


End file.
